Home, that space between your arms
by Gardenia75
Summary: Dan and Blair are unlikely friends who share the plight of dating self-absorbed people, Serena and Chuck. They desperately try to alleviate the pain through a game with surprising outcomes. Multi-chapter.
1. Chapter 1

_So this is my first attempt at a real story. It will be a bit more shippy and a bit less smutty._  
><em>I am doing this without a beta. So if anyone is interested, give me a shout!<em>

_I really appreciate all the feedback and constructive criticism! I will update regularly (Once a week I think) and I think there will be 3/4 chapter._

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><p>Here she is again. In his apartment again. The way she only knocks once she's already inside, the way she goes straight for the couch and curls up on it, he is not sure the loft is even his anymore. It's more like their island, away from the world, where it's only the two of them.<p>

Sometime it's Rufus and Lily's too. _"No one is that bad, there's usually something beneath the surface with people like that to make them act the way they do"_, he remembers not understanding his father's words back then. Or rather dismissing them. For Dan, Blair was just a 95 pounds bon mots tossing, label whoring package of girly evil. He's trying to remember when exactly that started to change. It might have been when Serena took Blair's spot at Eleanor's photo shoot. Serena didn't do it on purpose. He doesn't think so, but she didn't think about what it would do to Blair either. Not because of the spotlight, Blair doesn't care about that (not as much as Serena does anyway) but because it showed the world that Blair's own mother didn't care much for her daughter. He went to Blair that day, not Serena and he told her that she needed to speak up, to take a stand and to tell her mother how she felt. He doesn't know how he knew that she didn't deserve that, it was instinctive. And she took his advice. She didn't thank him, but he knew she was grateful. That is one thing that hasn't changed. She never says "thank you" but sometimes, actions are louder than words. And then he learnt that Serena had slept with Nate when he was still with Blair. And Blair forgave her like the rest. It was part of the package of love Blair gave to her best friend. Never giving up on people. He just hoped it wasn't going to be her downfall.

Yeah, he doesn't know how it happened but the loft is theirs. He thinks back to a time not that long ago, where she would have slapped him and he would have hated himself for saying that something, anything was just theirs. Where she would have loathed their names not referring to two separate entities separated by a conjunction.

He doesn't let her in, he never does. This is their shelter; she doesn't need permission to enter. It's her prerogative. Just like refugees have a right to asylum. In the same way that they deserve solace from an unforgiving world. It's early in the night and she's wearing a beautiful gown. He doesn't question why. Leave it to her to walk around Brooklyn in a Matthew Williamson dress.

_« If I didn't know any better, I'd think you're starting to like Brooklyn. » _He greets

_« It isn't Brooklyn I'm here for… »_ She trails.

_« What's going on? »_

_« I don't really want to talk about it… How about you? Dining in alone on a Friday night? Do I smell trouble in VanDerHumphrey paradise? »_

_« If you must know, I asked Serena to come with me to my interview. She says she would, so I followed her all day but she ended up going on a rescue mission for an old teacher. I missed the interview. Same old boring story. Guy cares more about pretty blonde that he does his own future. Hence, can only blame himself for his misfortune. »_

_« We're sort of pathetic don't you think? And I'm not just talking about you referring to yourself in the third person. »_

He nods but he's not entirely convinced that they're the pathetic ones.

_« What do you wanna do? Movie? » _He doesn't want to talk about their significant others tonight

_« Yes, a 'feel-good one'! Possibly about a guy who doesn't treat his girlfriend like his property and who hasn't slept with the entire city. »_

He looks at her and she gets upset because she can tell he's feeling sorry for her. And no one gets to pity Blair Waldorf. Especially not the Dan Humphreys of the world.

_« Sorry! I just got "Nights of Cabiria" at the DVD store…»_ He says putting it in the player and pressing play.

As Cabiria and Giorgio approach the river, he offers _« Tell you what. Let's make a game out of our misery. Something that would make the pain a little bit easier to bear. »_

_« I doubt it would work, but for the sake of the argument what did you have in mind? »_

_« I was thinking about a game of domination of sorts. I'll be enslaved to you every time Serena disappoints me, and vice versa when Chuck does. »_

_« Like I would agree to that. Nice try though. »_

_« Why do you always have to make decisions so quickly? Think about it. Make a pros and cons list. I mean, you could legitimately boss me around and I wouldn't be allowed to complain. »_

_« Don't I do that already? »_ She smiles and it's beautiful like she's living a happy memory. She should smile all the time.

_« In your dreams maybe. But unfortunately, I'm not privy to what happens in your subconscious…»_

Silence falls on them. An easy one. He lets it go, it was a long shot anyway and it would probably be a bad idea to enslave himself to Blair willingly. Half an hour goes by before she says

_«Fine, But there has to be something to keep you honest. One hour of slavery each time, not a second more ok? »_

He grins, _« Fine by me. You would be the one to let the power go to your head anyway. »_

_« Please. »_

_« By the way, I'm afraid you're today's loser, unless you tell me what he did this time. »_

She shakes her head in refusal. A shadow darkens her eyes. He doesn't want her to dwell.

_« Ok then. Let the games begin! Let's see. I have to think this through carefully. »_ He thinks for a second. It's fleeting, _« Lift up your dress. »_

She snaps her head, defensiveness in her eyes.

_« Do you trust me? »_

She scoffs. She's tempted to reply that trust is for the lower class, for people who don't have a choice. People like her only need power and money to entice loyalty. Plus, the phrase reminds her of Aladdin before he takes Jasmine on the flying carpet and she never really understood the appeal of Princesses and Paupers falling in love.

_« I'm not in the habit of doing that. »_

_« Well you don't really have a choice now do you? I wanna do shots off of you. Let's drown our sorrows oriental style! »_

If trust is for the lower class, body shots are for whory, un-classy college girls, which is worse. Then again, she has been classy her whole life and what has it gotten her?

He gets up and grabs a half full bottle of whiskey and three shot glasses from a cupboard. When he comes back, the dress has been lifted, revealing black lace panties and the smoothest of skins. He smiles

_« Thanks Cio-Cio San. »_

_« It's not whiskey in Japan, it's sake» _She only replies as if the authenticity of the drinking game was her main concern.

_« And I am not Madam Butterfly…»_ She says fiercely.

She is wrong. She gave herself to someone undeserving and that alone qualifies her. He ignores her though and places the glasses along her stomach and fills them up. She relaxes and laughs nervously while trying to keep the glasses stable. Body shots are so not something she ever pictured Dan Humphrey doing, least of all off of her. The whole scenario is hilarious. She has to give him that.

_« I just thought of a twist. For each glass I down, you have to tell me something you like about yourself. And something real, no fake modesty. »_

He looks at her and something in his eyes reduces her to silence.

_« Ready? »_

She can only nod. He starts with the one closer to her breasts. He has to wince, it burns but in a good way. He refills the glass because he wants her to taste the comforting drink. He grabs her face, places the small glass on her luscious lips and pours the amber liquid in her mouth. Her lips are beautiful. He just noticed that. They're almost sexual.

_« I like that I think that the end justifies the means. It makes me feel powerful knowing that I will do anything to get what I want. »_ The next two drinks go down easier for the both of them. He learns that she likes her ass. He can't blame her for that. And that she is proud to have a friend like Serena. He would like to object but he can't. Serena is his girlfriend and he loves her. She tries to pull her dress down, but he grabs her hand.

_« I'm not done. This just accounts for 30 minutes of our little game princess. »_ He knows it's actually probably closer to 45 but she doesn't object.

The first three shots have loosened them up. He pours the golden liquid in her belly button and without asking for her permission (he wouldn't have gotten it anyway) he applies his hot mouth on her stomach, drinking from her vibrant body. He finishes the bottle that way and the liquid tastes so much better mixed with the taste of her skin. He's pretty sure everything does. He laughs into her skin, he tells her he likes her ass too and he hears her laugh in response to him or something else. He's not sure but it's clear and it's unburdened, as it should be. He hunts the last drops of the liquor with his tongue and the tremors of her body make it easier. He traces shapes on her stomach with his finger for the last five minutes, trying to retrace the wanderings of his tongue. She doesn't know that, she's still trying to interpret his random patterns. When he finally allows her to pull her dress down after one hour he sees a twinge of disappointment on her face. He knows the hurt is all coming back to her. She remembers why she's there in the first place. He sits next to her and opens his arms. She crashes against him in the couch. Next thing he knows, she cries herself to sleep soaking his shirt and invading his skin. _"You want to kill me, don't you?"_ Cabiria cries out in the background _"For the money! Kill me then – Throw me in! I don't want to live."_


	2. Chapter 2

Hi Everyone! I'd like to start off by thanking those who took the time to review. In terms of context for this chapter, Serena is exploring her relationship with Ben and Blair is still dealing with Chuck having traded her for the Empire.

The setting is Victrola, but it's now owned by Penelope's boyfriend.

This chapter a bit longer and still sort of PG. I can't promise the same for the next one though. Smut is coming! Bear with me because the chapter is still really important for DB's relationship.

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><p>As luck would have it, he's the one who loses the next time around. Something about Serena kissing that teacher guy. And he thought he'd be madder about it. But he isn't and he knows it's part of the problem. He shows up at the penthouse only half drunk. He doesn't tell Dorota that he's here. He know his way around enough to avoid the vigilant maid. Blair never warns when she shows up at the loft. He usually likes it, but tonight it makes him mad. Who knows what she could stumble upon one day... He opens her bedroom door without knocking; hopefully it's payback time. She's in her La Perlas and garters and everything that Blair mistakenly views as casual underwear. She's unbelievably hot. She's petite and curvy and her black hair cascades down her back contrasting with her virginal skin. That has to be the only virginal thing about her though. He darts his tongue out to wet his lips and bites his bottom lip. Uncontrollable bodily response to the fact that she is sex personified. He didn't just think that. He can go back to before the idea penetrated his mind. He thinks of something she said once <em>« we're not slave to our emotions, we can stomp them out like bugs »<em>. She looks over, furious that he walked in on her in her current state of undress.

__«_ You do realize knocking is not just for the lower class right?_ »__

He grins, unrepentant _« You do realize you never knock when you come to the loft right? »_

She shakes her head_,_ ignoring the protestations_ « Ugh, fine. Since you're here, the least you could do to make it up to me is help me pick. »_ She says gesturing at two dresses on the bed. Both are gorgeous but only one of them has a plunging V neck that would almost reach her belly button. He picks this one. She grabs it and goes to the bathroom, not closing the door entirely.

_« I have to go to this club opening. It'll be bad taste and filled with hedge fund mafia, but Penelope is parading around because her boyfriend is the new owner and by boyfriend I mean her dad's 50 year-old associate. »_ She shouts from the bathroom. He sees her corset flying out through the door. With that dress, she can't wear a bra. He likes knowing that. _« Chuck refused to accompany me. He's still reeling for having been forced to sell the club, so I have to find another way to show that unrepentant social climber that I'm still the queen... »_

Of course she does. Take-downs. The Joy._  
><em>

_« I lost by the way. I'm yours for the next hour. Use it carefully. »_ He shouts, letting himself fall on her bed, knowing he's about to become the instrument of Penelope's imminent demise.

When she re-emerges from the bathroom, she is smirking wickedly and he wonders who had this stupid idea. Right, he did.

_« I don't usually go for outer boroughs escorts, but maybe I can turn you into an acceptable suitor for the night. »_

She goes straight to him, re-buttons the top of his shirt and drags him to her bathroom. She takes hair gel and puts a generous amount in his curls.

_« This will be so much fun! Thanks for ever thinking of the game Humphrey. You're a genius. »_ She says before grabbing his hand and leading him out the door.

The place is called « Victrola », it's an elitist club in the drags of dumbo that formerly belonged to Chuck as he gathers. All the minions stop and stare when Blair walks in and he's not used to that. Being in the spotlight, living it up with the "in crowd". Even Serena never elicited such a reaction from people. An explosive cocktail of fear, respect and envy. Blair gratifies Penelope with a nod. He'll never understand those friendships. Girls are dancing in cages and others on the stage are doing ungodly things with a stick. He wants to puke. Blair drags him to the bar.

_« Coming was a horrible idea. You should have talked me out of it Humphrey! Did you see the look they gave me when they saw I was with you? »_ He didn't see the infamous look but he's sure it was filled with contempt and although he expects it from the minions, he is trying really hard not to be offended by Blair's outrage.

_« We should have gone somewhere where nobody knows us." _He warms up at the thought that in this alternative, she's ditching her circle, not him.

__« _This is why I love role-playing? sometimes I feel like it's the only way to escape my life. » _She sighs into her hands_.  
><em>

He's about to ask, against his better judgment, why she wants to escape her life so badly, but she beats him to the punch.

_« Actually, you're my slave tonight right? » _Her smile doesn't have any hint of kindness to it. She is demanding and entitled, but it's the game he (foolishly) signed up for._  
><em>

_« Make that 40 minutes Waldorf. »_

_« How about we make tonight a little more fun. Let's say we're in Russia, I'll be Katarina a native high-end escort and you'll be Dimitri, my brother_ »__ He rolls his eyes. When did hookers start hanging out with their brothers? He doesn't utter a word though.

_« Buy you little sister a drink? »_

He realizes he can't argue, remembering the delightful things she let him do to her when she lost.

_« Two shots of vodka. __Zubrowka. __»_ He hails the barman after a deep sigh. He can still let her know he's not happy about it _« and keep 'em coming. »_

_« Nice impersonation of your average Russian mobster. I see you can now place your liquors geographically. »_

He gives her a drink and takes one.

_« Nasdrovia!»_

After a few drinks, he's pissed but she doesn't seem affected. He did have a head start though.

_« Nice descent » _He compliments_  
><em>

_« You know us Russians. We know how to hold our liquor…»_

That's when they see her walking in. Serena and her teacher. He should have known she would be there. With him. He downs another shot and Blair catches the whole thing. Of course.

_« So you never explained why you lost? Does it have anything to do with this Ben character she's stalking?»_ She winces looking at the pair.

_« It has everything to do with that. She kissed him. She says it didn't mean anything, but I'm sick of it. Of her treating me as her backup plan.»_

_« If that's any consolation, you're twice the man that creep will ever be and you know how poorly I think of you._»_ _She says with a smile_ _«_ I give her a week before she comes back to her senses and discard him like last season's Chanel booties.»_

_« I know. I just don't know if I want to wait anymore.»_

It's her turn to pity him and he understands why she didn't like it. He shakes his head but before he can tell her off, she excuses herself.

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><p><em>« Dan » <em>she says immediately upon returning, _« Do you think I'm hot? If we didn't hate each other as much as we do, would you have sex with me? »_

Maybe she's not that sober after all. He thinks it's a stupid question, so he doesn't answer it. She tears herself away. And the loss of her heat hurts.

_« Pick someone. »_ she says harshly, almost defiantly.

He doesn't understand

_« I'm sorry? »_

_« I'm an escort. Are you intentionally being obtuse? You don't want me, fine. You still get to decide who will have me tonight. For a price of course. »_

He doesn't want to say that he does want her. It's not that big of a big deal, everybody wants her. Boys and girls. Even asexual beings would try a bite of that he thinks, _« I'm not in a "pimp my sister out" mood tonight. Sorry. »_

_« It's because you have never lived in Russia. Misery, thirst of power bridled by years of communism. You'd sell your entire family if you had to. So why don't you start by me? I'm willing. »_ There it is, her "the end justifies the means" outlook on life in action. Except tonight her "end" is self-destruction. His throat is tight. She is testing him.

She wants to play, he can play.

_« This guy »_ he says showing an old man in the crowd. He looks depraved and probably smells like death. He's pretty sure she will back out, she has to. It's not just the game, it's her reputation too. Everybody here knows her.

She looks at him and he understands, albeit too late, that she won't. He's about to call it off then and let her win. Anything to keep her close, but she leaves her furry shrug on his lap, letting her hand linger on his crotch _"watch and learn Humphrey"_ she spits. She walks over with determination, passing by her prey, swaying her delicate hips. The guy's hand is suddenly on hers. He doesn't know how she did it. She hadn't even cast a glance in the man's direction. The ancestor puts his hands on her hips, turns her around, bringing her ass to his crotch. Her beautiful round ass. Katarina is facing Dimitri like that and she's glaring at him and smirking at the same time, daring him to intervene, smiling as though she wasn't giving a lap dance to someone who could be her grandpa. He hates that guy. He can't help but admire her though, but he's rendered paralyzed by the horrible spectacle.

« Then, oh my beauty! You must tell the vermin,  
>As it eats you up with kisses,<br>That I have preserved the form and essence divine  
>Of my decayed loves.<p>

It's wrong, so wrong and he hates himself for thinking of French poetry right now, but it's the only thing that comes to mind. Before he even understands what he's doing, he's tearing her away from the old creep, shielding her from the beast's assaults.

_« Hey boy, get lost. Me and the lady were about to engage in a consensual contract, if you know what I mean. »_

_« This is my sister you're talking about, old pervert. Now unless you want to taste your own blood, I strongly suggest you crawl back into the hole you came from. »_

_« Look, the girl is for sale. I get that. I am buying. Now run along boy. »_

_« Actually, she's had a better offer. »_ With that he grabs Blair, puts his hand in her hair and crashes her lips on his. She doesn't resist. And they fit, they really do. Sometimes, when he's alone and she's not here to give him a disapproving look, he thinks she even kissed him back.

_« You see old man, incest is best. »_ He says when he finally pulls back, his eyes plunged into hers.

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><p><em>« Ok game over. »<em> he grabs her hand and she follows willingly. He takes her upstairs in a deserted area of the club. He wants to get her away from the crowd, because he feels the mass is out to get her. And they say paranoia is a selfish feeling. There's a stage and a couch in front of it. A soft music playing in the background. She tears her hand away and she seems emotional, like this place reminds her of something magical that appears tainted retrospectively. He might be making it up though, that's what writers do after all.

_« You are too much of a good guy Humphrey. Girls like bad boys don't you know that by now? That's why Serena is with the ex-con right now. That's why I'm with Chuck. »_ She's harsh and cutting. She wants to hurt him, she doesn't know why. It hits him hard he's not sure if it's the part about Serena or the part about the feisty brunette in front of him.

_« Oh come on, it was fun, admit it » _She says while she starts walking around him

He doesn't relax

_« Would you have done it Blair? » _He says turning to face her_  
><em>

_« It's Katarina actually. » _She's smiling it's still a game to her_  
><em>

_« No it's not. Answer the question. » _He demands_  
><em>

_« No… I don't know._ »__ He doesn't know what to answer. The images of her giving herself to that guy that flash before his eyes are everything that would be wrong and twisted in the world. He doesn't understand how she got to that place. He wishes he could tear her away from it.

_« It's weird you know. We do role-play and I choose to be a prostitute. All I have ever wanted since I was 6 was to become a powerful woman like Indra Nooyi, or Hillary or even my mother and I just chose the opposite. I just impersonated someone who wants to be sold. »_

_« Blair, you can't care about what Chuck or anybody else thinks. You never used to. You're in control of your destiny. Be powerful if you want to be or a socialite or a hooker. Or all three of those. As long as you don't let Chuck make that choice for you. You can't let him make you into someone you're ashamed to be. I won't let you. »_

She's ignoring him and looking pointedly at the stage_ « That's how it all began you know. I stripped for him »_

Of course she did. He feels a jolt of pain at her not even mentioning Chuck's name. As if it were obvious. As if the only « he » in her life was him.

_« And the way he looked at me back then. I thought it was love, because Nate had never looked at me like that… Maybe I can erase everything and go back to the start. Maybe it's not too late. »_

Before he realizes it, she is going up the stage.

She moves to Lullaby by the Cure and it's only her. The atmosphere is surreal, he almost feels like he's intruding. She slides a finger up her thigh and he feels something fluttering in his stomach. She doesn't take anything off though but he knows what's underneath and he likes it that way. She licks her finger and ever so slowly traces the birth of her breast. She's a tease, to him and to the imaginary man she's dancing for. She mouths some of the lyrics_ "The spiderman is having me for dinner tonight"._

He doesn't like where she's going because it hits close to home and too close to her relationship with Chuck, so he clears his throat.

She's noticed him now and she smiles at him and sings _"Don't struggle like that, I'll only love you more"._ On top of it all, as if she wasn't irresistible enough as it is, her voice is beautiful. He's not Chuck though and he wants to make she she realizes that.

_« What happened next? »_ he asks, breaking the spell, and even though he doesn't want to know.

She goes to him, takes his hand and drags him through the club again and they exit onto the sidewalk.

_« We took the limo and I gave him my virginity. I had just turned 16. »_ He remembers the love nest he had built for Serena that night. He was so cheesy back then. She bursts in tears, _« I don't think it was love anymore. I think it was lust. It's stupid isn't it? The very fact that I think I lost something worth having and that he doesn't. We can't be fixed. »_

He takes her in his arms and she sobs uncontrollably repeating that they can't be fixed. She only stops when they get to the loft. And the couch. Their couch. And they fall asleep. He's awaken by his phone. A blast showing Blair confronting Serena at the party, when she went to "powder her nose", _« they're all good men until something happens Serena. Some of them stay good no matter how they're treated. »_ She's still asleep and she seems at peace. He kisses her forehead and drifts off again.


	3. Chapter 3

Hi fellow Dairers!

This chapter is early I know. I hope you all had time to read the last one. I have to warn that this chapter is VERY smutty. Don't read if you can't handle it! It's from Dan's POV.

It is also the penultimate! Anyway that's it for my rambling! Reviews are appreciated!

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><p>When she comes around that night, she looks defeated. She's wearing a mask; she was at a masquerade ball with Chuck apparently, which would be just another day on the life of an Upper East Side socialite, except he's learnt how to read her over the last few years and he doesn't need to see her face to know that she's in pain. Not the physical kind. It's as if life once again took everything from her. She doesn't complain probably deluding herself into thinking it makes her strong. Then again, Blair Waldorf is nothing if not the master of denial and warped logic. She just tells him that she lost. But this time, the game and her half inebriated state aren't enough to take her mind off of her defeat. She walks around the loft aimlessly, still wearing her mask, running her finger lazily over the furniture, trying to stumble onto something that would take her mind off her misery. Her hand stops on his dad's old record player. She starts it and the soulful tunes of "stormy weather", the deep voice of Etta James invade the loft.<p>

He hates seeing her this way. He wishes he could fancy himself a man of action, so tonight more than ever he loathes how helpless she makes him feel. He wonders bitterly why she doesn't leave him out of the mess that is her life. They say ignorance is bliss don't they? He knows he's being unfair.

He wonders how Chuck can be unaffected by her pain. But not only is Chuck the cause of her affliction, he's never there to pick her up either.

Her stoic silence is louder than a thousand cries and there is nothing that he would rather do, than shock her out of this state. And he knows just how to. He walks up to her and takes her hand gently, tentatively pulling her in his embrace but still leaving her the option to walk away, she looks up at him questioningly but she lets him, she rests her head on his chest as if it was unbearably heavy. He puts his hand on her hair, protectively. She doesn't need to hide anything from him so he pulls on the strings of her mask and lets it drop to the floor. He starts waltzing around with her, initiating the sway in her hips with his hand, trying to heal her with this gentle touch and it's like they're out of time.

"_All I do is pray the lord will let me walk in the sun once more"_

She doesn't have the strength to dismiss him or make a derogatory remark about him wearing flannel or smelling like onions. She looks up at him, no words needed because it's all in her eyes. They smile and they cry. They tell him her grief and her gratitude. They dance until the song ends and then keep waltzing to an imaginary melody. They must be out of space and time, because he presses his forehead to hers and he says

_« Blair, I'm writing something right now and well there is something I have always wanted to witness » _

Truth is he's been thinking about asking this since the start, but he could never bring himself to be so forward, so blunt. But he feels like it's now or never and he's sick of artistic license.

She perks up ever so slightly. She looks at him, she seems intrigued.

_« Just for description accuracy of course. »_ He says trying to conceal his real motives behind professional ethics.

_« Of course »_ she says prudently, stiffening in his arms.

_« I was wondering if I could watch while you… »_ He pauses and he lets go of her, because he doesn't know how to put it in a way that would make the whole thing remotely acceptable in her eyes. He can't handle a refusal.

_« while you touch yourself. »_ That last part is barely above a whisper and when he hears it, it's raspy and deep. He feels like a creep. But he's not; everyone would want to see that. He closes his eyes waiting for the slap that is sure to come. But it doesn't. His eyes are still closed so he misses her lips curling up from a shocked gasp to a knowing smirk; he missed the anger in her traits slowly replaced by a spark igniting in her eyes.

When he reopens his eyes, she's already halfway to his bedroom. Her shoes are scattered and her dress is falling off of her hips. He only catches a glimpse of her nude form for a second before she disappears in his room. He lets the realization wash over him before he follows her. If the inane clothed obstacles that she left in his path were supposed to alter his resolve, he hopes she has a plan B.

* * *

><p>When he enters his room, she's laying upside down across the bed. Her legs closed and her arms above her head. She's on his bed he repeats to himself mentally, trying to grasp this foreign concept. Blair Waldorf on HIS bed. This sounds a lot like something he wrote once. The thought is furtive because it's not something he ever admitted to anyone, least of all himself.<p>

"_Only watching right?"_ she asks nervously. He's not sure what the right answer is, but he nods anyway.

He doesn't think he could do anything else than watching, nothing could convince him he has the right to do anything more. He sits down on his desk chair close to her face. She doesn't belong here and yet no place on earth could make her look more beautiful. She shines like a gem would in dark cave. She would probably say a Princess in Brooklyn and he wouldn't disagree. He loves Brooklyn but when it comes to beauty, she owns the borough if not the city, if not the world.

_« Men always think sex with me will be a struggle for power because I'm a control freak. Truth is though; I have this antithetic desire to be restrained during intercourse. It drives me mad you know, not being in control, not being able to touch, but sometimes you want that choice taken away, and it frees your mind… »_

As much as he wants to hear the end of her soliloquy, he can't because her hands have travelled to her pink lace bra and she unhooks it from the front. And it commands his undivided attention. She peels it off revealing soft white tits and nipples blessed with the most beautiful shade of pink. She starts playing with them and squeezing them. They harden under her touch and he can't help but notice they move so naturally (Serena's were always so stiff). He can't believe he gets to think of her that way. This is what flesh should look like he thinks. Something stirs deep inside of him at his own bluntness. She lets her hands travel at her sides and she grabs her panties, playing with them tantalizingly for a while, tracing their outline, letting the tip of her fingers underneath the lace. Finally she slides them across her legs at an agonizingly slow pace, pushing the delicate material under his pillow with her foot. He starts obsessing on that again. Blair Waldorf's panties are under HIS pillow. Where he sleeps on, where he breathes at night. He catches himself hoping her odor will remain long after she's gone and that it will penetrate his dreams. He zeroes in on her gorgeous smooth sex and he has to readjust his pants to accommodate his erection. The sight of her is beyond anything he ever imagined. If there are perfect proportions, she has them.

"_I need help Dan. You're a poet…"_ she pauses and smirks before adding condescendingly _"Of sorts. How about providing a bit of… how shall I put it… verbal motivation?"_

He wants her motivated. More than anything he ever wanted, but because of the way she said his name or because of the nature of the request, it's all stuck in his throat.

She lets out a frustrated sigh,

"_Come on Humphrey, it was your idea. You know how guys watch porn to get in the mood. Girls aren't really into that kind of stuff. Maybe you could… I don't know… tell me what you think boys like about me?"_

He knows it's only fair, but he is at a loss where to begin. He forces himself.

"_They love that you're so hard to get and that you cover yourself up so much, hiding treasures of wickedness. They love knowing that if you choose them, you will give them all the things others can only dream about."_

"_Humphrey, move away for the PG talk, what would they do to me if I let them?"_

He travels across the room, and sits at the edge of his bed. He needs to see this. She smirks, mocking his neediness; she still slides a foot across his knees to put her legs on each side of him giving him a better view of her beautiful center. He puts his hands on her feet; If it's the only thing he's allowed to do, he will keep her there.

"They would cup your ass. Your ass is fucking gorgeous. It's asking to be desecrated. They would come up to you at an event, preferably something dignified where you pretend to be above everyone else, unattained by desires and sexual impulses. I don't ask you…"

Her hips thrust ever so slightly at the pronoun and tense change.

"_And I put my hand under your dress, you're naked underneath because that's who you are, I caress your ass and slide my fingers from your asshole towards your pussy, you're be soaking wet because you have wanted me for so long. I put my fingers inside you and it makes me hard that you're letting me do that. It is driving me insane that you let me penetrate you that intimately. And you love it but you still try to keep your composure. I take my fingers out and I taste you… And Blair, you taste so fucking good." _

He licks his lips as if he could find her delicious juices there, imprinted on him.

She uses one hand the open her pussy and keep it apart while the other one collects her wetness and comes back on top, on her clit. He groans, knowing he made her this wet with mere words has sent him over the edge. There goes his professionalism. She's massaging her bundle of nerves with one finger and then two.

"_I take you to the stage and make you lean forward. I bring up your dress, showing off your cunt to everyone. And they all reach out because you make them so hungry. But I'm fucking starving for you. I kneel behind you and I lick you once, leaving you wanting more. You turn around and beg me to continue ravishing you."_

"_Yes, Dan… More please!"_ Her voice is weak and supremely sexy. He thinks their friendship is ruined but as she said herself, friendship is a tenuous term where they are concerned.

"_I stand back up and you beg me to take you, you demand that I take you. I don't resist because quite frankly Blair you're irresistible. I lay you down on the stage and climb on top of you parting your gorgeous thighs with my hands, sliding them towards you center. You shake under me. You're so impatient. You take my cock and place it at your entrance, where you need me so badly, You put me the as if was where I belonged. I push into you while everyone is watching and you cry out my name. I fuck you then and you're warm and soft and you feel amazing wrapped around me. I can't get enough of you, of your skin of your insides." _

She moans at that and her breathing is heavier than ever, his erection is beyond painful now.

"_When was the first time you fantasized about making love to me?"_ She is panting and it drives him crazy.

"_I was 15"_ he admits more to himself than to her because it was a week after he got with Serena. He had had this colorful dream about taming the feisty brunette. The following ones were more conscious and less violent than he would ever admit…

Sometimes she moves slowly and sometimes fast. It's not like boys he thinks. It's much more sophisticated and it's a thing of beauty. And he wonders suddenly who created her. He thinks it's God and Satan who came together to create one last thing to taunt and torture man at the same time. Isn't that what desire is? An eternal quest for a fleeting satisfaction? That's what she is he decides. Desire. She's black and white, she's pure and wicked, a promise and a threat. She is half good and half evil, but not so clearly that you would know when one starts and ends. Both opposite characteristics possess her entirely, just at different levels. They agitate her body, leading an internal fight for control. And he wants both sides to win.

He authorizes himself a transgression, sliding his hands up to her knees and pushing to her soft sensual thighs, pushing her legs fully and completely apart. And the little vixen lets him she even lunges forwards. She allows herself an indistinct strangled moan and to his delusional ears it sounds eerily like a delightful invitation. But he can't go any further. She cannot be tamed or ever belong to anyone he thinks. It would be a crime to try and possess such an ethereal creature.

He can't handle her panting and moaning any more than he can handle not being able to put his hands all over her and get better acquainted with her skin, so he undoes his belt and opens the zipper with one hand, the other one is still glued on her thigh, massaging it, and he takes his dick out. He is just an observer, but she never said anything about him not getting the release he so desperately needs. He starts stroking himself thinking about how welcoming and hot and soft she would truly feel.

As if she knew (and she probably does because her head is tilted on the side and her eyes are on him), she enters a finger inside herself and the pleasure twitches her body and he understands her plight. She has an untamed sexual desire and she punishes herself for it. He now understands the way she covers herself up, hoping it would shield her wicked appetite from the world. He feels for her because she shouldn't have to hide something so beautiful. It is a part of her and he hates Chuck for having used it in a way that made her ashamed of herself. For having taken advantage of it.

She enters a second finger, eliciting a deeper moan and she grabs his sheets with her other hand. She's lost in the middle of an ocean on which she floats. And he can only see her because she's the light that the darkness is trying to engulf. And she only thrives because of the way he looks at her. He feels like he's the only thing keeping her alive in this very moment and that she needs him to keep breathing and the feeling is incomparable. She accelerates her strokes while her other hand grabs her velvet hair and pushes it away from her gorgeous doll-like features. He knows in that second that he's never seen anything as beautiful as her. He mirrors her acceleration on himself. She grabs a pillow and puts it under her back and in this position he finds her eyes and she finds his and their stares lock. Her fingers are still inside of her and her other hand moves back to her clit. He loves how she's working herself. Her rhythm is increasing and her gorgeous noises too. He's trying to keep up on his own cock, but he needs to stroke himself more slowly if they are to climax at the same time. And he desperately wants to. Suddenly, she removes her fingers from inside of her, still rubbing her clit with the other and extends her hand towards him. To his utter shock and delight, she brings it up to his penis surrounding him by her warm essence and it's too all much. He feels himself exploding in her hand. Her back arches, she throws her head back and he thinks he hears his name. Twice. It's unbelievably quiet though, so he thinks that lost in their climaxes, he might have imagined it. That he might have heard what he wanted to hear. She releases him, lets her soiled hand travel back to her pussy as she turns on her side. Her legs are closed and her hand is still moving sporadically as if to make something last that is already gone. And if he hadn't just ejaculated he would cum again, seeing her mix his seed with her juices.

* * *

><p>He doesn't know what happens after that. He hears the tap run and then the door of the loft closes. He still can't walk and feels a wet sticky spot between his legs. It might have been an hour when he finally rises. In the living room, her coat and shoes are gone. Not her dress though. Not her underwear scattered on his sheets as remnants of her. He understands devotion right then and there, better than he ever did. He venerates the fabric like a pilgrim would adore the relics of a saint, maybe not exactly the same way. Because he hates her for taunting him, for making him the only one who knows she's walking around the city naked underneath her coat. He doesn't know that he's not the only one who knew what was under her trench that night though. He doesn't know that she went to Chuck. And that while he's on top of her, it's Dan's lustful eyes raking over her, his words that echo in her ears, his embrace that she imagines wanting to feel a bit closer to home.<p>

He lets himself fall on his bed. And her smell is still there, an overwhelming mixture of her essence, her sweat and the delicious perfumes of her hair and her skin. He thinks it must be what heaven smells like. Hell too.


	4. Chapter 4

Someone blessed me with the title of smut master which I loved so I'm posting the last chapter of this story! Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I love you all!

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><p>He can't have sex anymore. With anyone. He's broken. His grip tightens on his glass of single malt (the third one). He doesn't know what happened to him. He could guess, but he feels more comfortable avoiding the cause of his current predicament. Avoidance has never been his style, but right now honesty is a dangerous territory.<p>

And the symptoms remain; he has been needing release lately. Badly. So he tried. But they're all way too blonde, way too stupid. And their skin isn't soft and their hair doesn't smell like paradise. Their juices are dry, their eyes are empty.

He doesn't even realize when she comes in.

Although he feels like he's been waiting months for her victorious return. Months for her to claim what he confusedly senses is rightfully hers. He's been checking his phone obsessively only to find the insulting "no messages" glaring back at him, he's been showing up at events he can't stomach and where she usually spends her life, he's been lurking around the steps of the Met like a creep, if only to catch a glimpse of her, or a hint of her scent. To no avail.

And the first thing he hears piercing the heat of this month of August is her plea to take her away. He thought that was what their loft was for, but it's not enough anymore. Nothing can distract her from the fact that she loses the game all the time. Probably because he left Serena a month ago. It wasn't only Serena's fault, not entirely. If he's truthful, they grew apart not only because she thrived under the attention of others, but also because he sought solace with a feisty brunette rather than trying to figure Serena out.

But Blair would have kept on losing the game. No matter what. Chuck never needed the comparison to pale.

He doesn't question, he grabs his dad's car keys and they're out the door. It's what he does now. Her bidding. It frustrates him to feel like there is nothing he would rather do than to be with her and comfort her. Anywhere. He had always thought love was something that was built along the tormented road of a relationship. Not that it can be born from afar and be completely selfless. Love. He brushes it off. It's not about him right now. They start to drive. He's not sure where to. Driving and looking at her are the only two things he can focus on. She's dark and grimly. As they put distance between them and the city though, it's like a weight is lifted off her chest, she smiles more, she lectures him on the lack of navigation system in the car

"_oh no wait it's me"_

She says that if she shoved her feet through the floor, she could run faster. He says she's very welcome to try, he reminds her that for a GPS to be useful, they need a destination and that he would leave her in charge of his dad's collector's item,

"_if only you knew how to drive"_.

They reach the Hamptons around 5PM. He takes her to a small restaurant on the beach he frequented over the summer, trying to escape the city and her absence. The irony of the situation doesn't escape him. Dan Humphrey showing Blair Waldorf around the Hamptons. Vanessa would wince. They both have lobster and champagne. Her idea of course. She would replace water with champagne if it were up to her. She's a modern-days Marie-Antoinette. He tells her and she blushes. Only her could take that as a compliment.

_"Do you think a straight man and a straight woman can be friends?"_ she randomly asks.

_"Why couldn't they be?"_ He asks puzzled, raking his brain for examples of successful aforementioned friendships. He can't find any.

_"A little thing called sexual attraction you know. If one loves someone as a friend and they want to get all horizontal and sweaty with the other, then what you're feeling is akin to love or at least desire. Hence, there can be no platonic heterosexual male-female friendship."_

_"Are you saying we're not friends?"_ He says, grabbing his chest, pretending to be offended.

_"Us? friends? Don't flatter yourself Humphrey."_ But she smiles.

There is a comfortable silence.

_"That wasn't your question though."_

_"It's not?"_ she says raising an eyebrow.

_"No, who cares if it's friendship or love. It's all on the good end of the spectrum of human emotions. You're only scared that acting on those feelings can lead to the loss of friendship."_

She doesn't say anything but she nods.

_"That reminds me of a quote "You never lose by loving. You always lose by holding back". At the risk of sounding cliché Blair when you do love someone, if you end up losing your friendship then you didn't lose anything worth having in the first place."_

_"I don't think Chuck and I were ever friends."_ She drops and he doesn't know what to answer, because he wholeheartedly agrees. But not all truths need to be told.

_"Dan, you know that first night, eight months ago, when we started the game. I showed up in a cocktail dress."_

_"Yeah?" _he urges

_"Chuck bought that dress. Jack wanted me to wear this when he and I…"_ She releases a breath, debating the pros and cons of releasing what was weighing on her soul,_ "When we had sex in exchange for Chuck's hotel. And Chuck not only agreed to this indecent proposal, he chose the wrapping of his human sacrifice. He manipulated me and traded me for his precious Empire. And I went along with it. I've blamed everyone. Myself, Jack, the damn hotel, but it was Chuck. He doesn't know what it means to love someone and I've never been willing to really see that, to accept it. I have always thought that I could teach him what it means and what it feels like to truly love another person; I thought that I could fix him by loving him too much. I have never allowed myself to understand that he treated me as a commodity, because he simply didn't love me enough."_

He's horrified and taken with homicidal impulses. Out of all the times leading up to him punching Chuck, he never felt the desire to do so more than now. But she looks free. She told him despite her shame. He understands that she had been struggling with that since their first game but that she finally let go and that he needs to do the same. He understands without a word from her that she doesn't hate Chuck, but that she doesn't love him anymore.

As much as others walking all over her infuriate him, he loves that about her. Her ability to forgive them for the monstrosities they inflict on her. She should never have to but she does and that's what makes her godly. That's what makes her as beautiful as she is. And she is incredibly beautiful.

He pays and they leave the restaurant. He takes her hand interlacing their fingers. After a short walk on the beach to enjoy the sunset and made delirious by how free she looks, he suggests skinny-dipping. She blushes

_"Nice try Humphrey, but that house belongs to my mother's biggest customer and this one over there,"_ she says pointing to a huge beach house _"is the house of my first boyfriend from kindergarden."_

_"So? Worst case scenario, your mom's customer gets a peek at the goddess that you are and spends even more to show his gratitude and if he's lucky, boyfriend number 1 gets the show of everything he's been missing."_

He's already unzipped her skirt. She's not wearing panties, he revels in the discovery. He takes her sheer white blouse off and she doesn't have a bra either. She looks at him, steps closer and returns the favor taking his T-shirt off, letting her breasts brush against him as she does so. Undoes his belt and his zipper and gets rid of it all. It reveals his erection but he's not ashamed of his desire for her and she smiles. She takes his hand and challenges him to a race. But he knows she is just scared anyone would see her. Anyone but him. She shouldn't be. The rest of humanity should only be so lucky. But he doesn't tell her. He's not fighting their battles. They both throw themselves in the water. And the look on her face tells him she's enjoying the feeling of the water on her naked flesh. So does he. He loves that the stream that touches him was on her seconds ago and he can't think of a better place to be. She smiles and she laughs and it echoes in his soul. This is bliss he thinks. And he can see clearly at last. Her and him, living naked all the time on a beach somewhere. Her singing and him writing books about her pleasuring herself. He thinks he might keep those for himself but he would write about her and about how she makes him feel. It might be uninteresting and too darn simple, but it would make him happy. He only snaps out of his reverie when he sees her lips moving in the sunset

_"Dan, are you gonna make your move or what?"_

He takes a breath and his lips curl up, he's stunned, too afraid to understand. But before he can do anything, he feels her grabbing his neck, inserting her hot little tongue in his mouth and wrapping her legs around him. She still doesn't ask for permission, as if she knows that he is hers. They're surrounded by an empty world and he feels like the chosen one. They make out as two people in love do for the first time. It's deep and slow as if they were trying to learn each other by heart. After a while, they feel the cold paralyzing them, so they rush out, parting with regret and they get dressed again, devouring each other in looks and thoughts. Thankfully Cece's house is only ten minutes away, so he extends his hand to her and they start walking.

_"Dan we **are** friends you know. Sometimes I think you're my only friend."_

_"I know and you'll never lose that I promise. You'll always have me."_

She smiles, tears in her eyes. Grateful.

Once in the huge beach house, they prepare themselves desert and they bask in the anticipation, wanting to drag it out. They look at each other, knowing they're about to consummate their new relationship and the silence between them makes them feel both coy and shy.

She can't stop smiling and it makes him feel warm. They're close but it's a different kind of close. It's a proximity filled with possibilities. He cuts cubes of grapefruit for them both and every so often he lets his hand on her thigh letting it get closer to her center each time, and she drops hot kisses on his neck that feel a whole lot like foreplay. He feeds her bits of grapefruit with his bare fingers and she swallows them whole, eyeing him suggestively. It paralyzes him. She lets the juice of the fruit fall on her throat to the valley of her breasts. If it's a game of teasing, she's winning.

She jumps and runs to the staircase when he suggests picking out sleeping arrangements. Truthfully, they just open the first door they find. To this day, he couldn't describe the room accurately. She's shivering keeping his eyes on him, so he goes to the bathroom to run her a bath but she has another idea. She enters after him and gets into his arms for a hug. He kisses her hair and he loves that she's so petite that she can bury herself in there. She pulls away takes his hand and drags him to the shower. She opens the hot stream and they start kissing ever so slowly, still perplexed that they get to do this to each other. He studies her, mystified.

Those gorgeous sensual lips he moistened with whiskey during their first game. He kisses her as if he was tasting the most delicious thing for the first time, torn between his need to retain her flavor and his greediness to move on to other parts of her. The water has rendered her blouse completely see-through and her nipples are hard through it. He tears the offending material open and traces the swelling of her breasts, just like she did when she stripped. He squeezes her right breast and he loves how it moves and how full it feels under his hand. He lifts her and her legs close all around him. He captures her left breast in his mouth, biting her nipple lightly, and she offers it willingly, like she's about to offer herself. He presses her against the wall wanting her to feel the cold on her back and the steam on her body. He pulls back to look at her. The desire in her eyes is unbearable. Not breaking eye contact while she brings her legs down, he puts his hands on her gorgeous ass, makes quick work of her skirt and she's finally naked. And this is how she was created to be. All the time. He feels her small delicate hand on his stomach so dangerously close to where he desperately needs her. He gets rid of his shirt while she's working on his zipper, freeing his erection.

Even with salty water on her, her dark wet locks sticking to her face, she looks like a perfect doll. She's so feminine that it hurts.

_"You're so beautiful"_ he says because he can't bear one more second thinking it and not being able to tell her. He finally reaches for her pussy and she shakes under his touch because she's been waiting for this for such a long time. He enters two fingers inside her. He sees her struggling to re-open her eyes, conflicted between wanting her pleasure to take over and her need to see him inside her for the first time. He whispers her name in her ear softly, encouragingly, wanting her eyes back on him.

_"Blair baby, please look at me."_

He knows it sounds like he's begging, but he doesn't give a fuck. Her need for him wins and her deep soulful eyes are back on him, hungry. He kneels before her and she runs her fingers through his hair, slightly pushing him towards her sex. She always thought that move was vulgar but she doesn't care. He's making her a different person and she's not sure she minds as much as she's supposed to. He wants to enjoy her need for him so he resists just a little, taking his fingers out and licking them. She groans in frustration and it's too much for him to bear. He never could torture her, he wasn't about to start now. He darts his tongue out to taste that heavenly essence he knows so well for having dreamt about it for months. It was imprinted on him just like she is. It feels right and it feels like home. He's never tasted anything like it and he needs more. He's now licking her fully and he applies one hand flat on her stomach to keep her from writhing. She lifts her leg up and rests her thigh on his shoulder, granting him more access. He can't help but smirk against her. He wishes he could see how sexy she is right now, but he wants her undone. He wants her to cry out his name so he completes his licking by entering her with two fingers, then three and starts his back and forth. He hears her moan

_"Dan, please…"_ It's deep and interrupted but he knows what she wants.

He accelerates and he becomes rougher, moving his fingers inside of her because she likes it that way. He's validated a few seconds later when her walls contract around his hand and her juices invade his mouth and her hand contracts in his hair, she screams and it's the most beautiful sound he ever heard. He gets up, trailing her body with kisses. He's fucking hard but he doesn't care.

At least he thinks he doesn't, until she gives him a peck on the lips and gets out of the shower, smirking. He can't believe she's leaving him squirming with unfulfilled desire.

He shouts after her _"Blair? Blair! Are you fucking serious?"_

He grabs a towel, ties it around his hips and follows her in the bedroom. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight though. She's on her four on the bed.

_"Oh yes. Dead serious."_

He has not time to admire her wickedness. He discards the towel, kneels behind her on the bed and he finally pushes into her, hands grabbing her hips, keeping her against him. He hates himself for not having done this before. He can't believe he ever thought she couldn't belong to anyone. She has belonged to him all this time, not because he deserves her but because she chose him. He feels as if he never had sex before. If he did, he can't remember it. Because it never felt as tight, as hot and welcoming, it never smelt that good, it never felt so right. He withdraws himself and turns her over.

_"I need to see you."_

He grabs both her thighs pushing them apart like he did before but this time he gets to plunge into her. So he does. As deeply as he can. As deeply as nature will allow him to. She cries out against his mouth. Suddenly she turns them over so that she's on top. She starts moving, steadying herself by placing her hands on his stomach and he feels the heavenly friction on his dick and he knows her clit is rubbing against him. It's so erotic he almost explodes right then and there. He puts his hands on her hips trying to still her or at least slow her down, but she's not having any of it and she continues moving wildly against him. He takes the silk blindfold conveniently kept on the bedside table, and he turns them over, he grabs her hands and ties her up to the bedpost. He sees recognition in her eyes and she seems turned on beyond imagination. It's still Blair though and in retaliation, she bites his shoulder hard and the pain inflicted by the little vixen only enhances the indecent pleasure she procures, he brings his finger to her lips and she takes it in her mouth, wetting it. He brings the finger to her other entrance and inserts it in her asshole. She bites him again but it's sensual this time. He feels her relaxing and moving even more against him, desperate for more friction.

Images of her hazing him in school, her moments of vulnerability through the years, her letting him drink off of her stomach flash before his eyes and he moves frantically inside her, wanting her to get her release and feeling way too close to his. Thankfully, it's mere seconds before she screams out. And it's his name on her gorgeous lips again. He's sure of it this time. He's accepted it. Heaven contracts and engulfs him. He feels his cum filling her. He lets himself fall on her, resting his body there, enjoying the erratic beats of her heart and the way her breasts move while she tries to catch her breath. He unties her then, and she cuddles in his arms, she weighs nothing and yet she means the world. They lay here and she falls asleep. Before he follows her, he understands that morning comes, they will be gone and no one will ever find them again.

_From God or Satan, who cares? Angel or Siren,_  
><em>Who cares, if you make, — fay with the velvet eyes,<em>  
><em>Rhythm, perfume, glimmer; my one and only queen!<em>  
><em>The world less hideous, less tedious leave our day.<em>


End file.
